Old farm gate

Doney Hammontree
Bethel Grove, Arkansas
May 18, 1951
Collected by Irene Carlisle
Reel 120 Item 3
THE OLD FARM GATE
The old farm gate hangs sagging down, ah, me,
On rusty hinges bent and brown, ah, me.
Its latch is gone, and here and there
It shows wide traces of repair.
Ah, me, ah, me, ah, me,
Time passes so quickly away!
The children have upon i t clung, with me.
And in and out with rapture swung, in glee.
When our young hearts were good and pure,
And faith was f a i r and l i f e was sure;
Ah, me, etc.
Beside this gate have lovers true, ah, me,
Oft told the story always new, ah, me.
Have made their vows, have dreamed of bliss,
And sealed each promise with a kiss;
It seems but yesterday;
Time passes so quickly away.
That gate on rusty weight and chain, ah, me,
Has closed upon the funeral train, ah, me.
That gate has often opened wide
To welcome home a new-made bride;
It seems but yesterday;
Time passes so quickly away.
But dear to me above all things, oh, yes,
The reason of the thought it brings, oh, yes,
Is that dear gate now hanging down
On rusty hinges bent and brown;
Ah, me, etc.

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Doney Hammontree
Bethel Grove, Arkansas
May 18, 1951
Collected by Irene Carlisle
Reel 120 Item 3
THE OLD FARM GATE
The old farm gate hangs sagging down, ah, me,
On rusty hinges bent and brown, ah, me.
Its latch is gone, and here and there
It shows wide traces of repair.
Ah, me, ah, me, ah, me,
Time passes so quickly away!
The children have upon i t clung, with me.
And in and out with rapture swung, in glee.
When our young hearts were good and pure,
And faith was f a i r and l i f e was sure;
Ah, me, etc.
Beside this gate have lovers true, ah, me,
Oft told the story always new, ah, me.
Have made their vows, have dreamed of bliss,
And sealed each promise with a kiss;
It seems but yesterday;
Time passes so quickly away.
That gate on rusty weight and chain, ah, me,
Has closed upon the funeral train, ah, me.
That gate has often opened wide
To welcome home a new-made bride;
It seems but yesterday;
Time passes so quickly away.
But dear to me above all things, oh, yes,
The reason of the thought it brings, oh, yes,
Is that dear gate now hanging down
On rusty hinges bent and brown;
Ah, me, etc.